My Fault
by Ice Cube1
Summary: Oneshot...A nightmare too vivid for Sam to ignore brings to light exactly why he feels guilty…could take place any time, but probably right after “Home”…


**Title: My Fault**

**Author: Ice Cube**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: For Supernatural in general, but only if you haven't seen any of the series…**

**Disclaimer: Right, if I owned them anywhere outside of my dreams, the characters that are forthwith mentioned in this story would be making me a lot of money and very happy…so no, they aren't mine, and I'm a broke college student who has no money, so if you're going to sue, feel free, you won't get anything.**

**Characters: Sam, Dean**

**Archives: Feel free; just let me know where so I can find it again.**

**Summary: A nightmare too vivid for Sam to ignore brings to light exactly why he feels guilty…could take place any time, but probably right after "Home"…**

**Warnings: To those who think that I am capable of writing a fic that is torture free…I can't, and thus, if you don't want to see h/c, various possible tortures, and other forms of angst, find another story. Also, to those of you looking for slash, when I mean friendship and brotherhood, I take that in the trust you with my life and have no problem telling you about my current crush who is of the opposite sex way. In other words, if you're looking for slash, you won't find it here. **

**I don't have my stories beta'd, I'm too impatient to wait for someone to proof it after I've written it, so I apologize for any mistakes, and if you email me to tell me that they're there, I'll fix them later. Reviews are always a plus, it's great to know that people are reading my stories and like them, but as I'm a horrible reviewer, I won't hold my breath for them. Flames, however, will be treated with the utmost respect they deserve…they will be ignored completely or poked fun at with friends.**

**That said, on with the tale…

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Sam's eyes opened wide, sleep instantly forgotten. He jolted himself to a sitting position and looked up quickly, years of training instilled in him to prove that he really was awake. Nothing was on the motel's ceiling above his bed. One glance over to Dean assured the younger Winchester that his brother was still oblivious to the waking world. He forced himself to lie back down after glancing at the clock. It was just after 3:30. Closing his eyes again, Sam was once again assaulted with horrific images, and he knew there was no more sleep for him that night. Sitting up and throwing back the covers, Sam slipped off the side of the bed and wedged himself between the bed and the small nightstand. His lanky form folded over itself as he lay his head and arms on his knees and let out a shaky breath. There was no sense in crying over it, he was twenty-two years old after all.

But sometimes sense has nothing to do with it, and soon his sleeves were damp with salty tears. Silently, he let his grief take hold for the moment, assuring himself that he would overpower it in a minute. He didn't hear the soft sigh that came from across the room, or the quiet footsteps that padded along the floor.

"Jesus, Sammy. I thought you were the taller one." Dean tried to make light of the situation, not knowing how else to deal with the ball in the corner that was apparently his brother. He expected some kind of response, but when he didn't get one, sat down at his brother's feet instead. He'd have to wing this somehow. "Sam, come on out of there."

Sam shook his head slightly, and Dean was impressed to see his kid brother curl into an even smaller ball. He bit his lip and looked back to his bed. Maybe he should just go back to sleep and leave his brother alone. He wasn't sure if Sam would want his company. The smallest of sniffles from his brother reminded Dean of the nightmares he had comforted Sam after when they were small, and he vowed to be there for him again.

Now, how to do that? "Are you coming out of there?" Dean was rewarded with another slight shake of Sam's head. At least he was responsive. "Fine then, have it your way."

Dean stood up and pushed the nightstand out of the way, sitting down in its place. He hesitantly lifted his right arm and paused just over Sam's shoulders. Dean tightened his hand into a fist, but then, with a shake of his own head, relaxed the whole arm and let it drape over Sam's back. He felt his brother tense, but then let out a shaky breath and relax.

"You know, I wouldn't have a chick flick moment with just anyone, little brother. What's going on?"

Nothing came from Sam. Not a laugh, not a response, nothing. "Sam, come on. Just talk to me. Let me help. Please?" _Damn, where had that tone come from? It sounded almost…desperate._

Something in Dean's voice made Sam's walls come tumbling down. "It's all my fault," he croaked, and balked at the hopelessness in his own voice. He bit his lip and lifted his head, turning teary eyes to his brother.

The look Sam gave him shattered any pretense Dean had of being impassive and cold. The pure hurt and fear in his baby brother's eyes was the exact same one he had often turned on Dean when they were just kids and he was afraid after a particularly gruesome nightmare. But there was something else, too. For the first time, Dean saw Sam pleading with him. Unconsciously, the younger brother was begging the older one to lay his guilt to rest; to prove to him that no matter what he thought, there was nothing that would condemn him for his past. The unadulterated glimpse into Sam's soul was almost too much for Dean, and for a moment he pulled his brother close, as if that simple act could shield him from all the hurts in the world.

"Sam? What's all your fault?" He needed to know more about what Sam had seen in his nightmares before he could fix it. It wasn't like putting a band-aid over a scraped knee and drawing a smiley face on it. Band-aids could fall off. This wound needed stitches at least.

"Jessica," the name was only breathed, it couldn't even be counted as a whisper, "and Mom too."

Dean's breath caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut before breathing out slowly. He knew that the guilt had been eating his little brother after they'd left Stanford, and he had been trying to get Sam to open up about it, but this wasn't something he could prepare for, and he didn't know if he'd be any good at it. Dean also never thought Sam would actually volunteer to let anyone in on his secrets.

"Sam, I know I've said this before, and I'm going to say it again. You didn't kill them. Jess wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done. If you want to blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. And Mom…you were five month's old for God's sake, how could you have had anything to do with it?"

"They both died over my bed. The two women who have ever honored me enough to love me ended up with a slashed stomach and were consumed by fire, stuck to a ceiling, over my damned bed. Something is latched onto me; and no matter what I do, no matter how far away I get and how much I try to stay away from anything else that could condemn me and everyone who…what if it comes after you next?"

"Sammy…I…We're going to figure this out. Something is latched onto this family, or our house, or…it's not necessarily you, do you understand me? We'll…"

"What if I'm cursed? What if somewhere along the line, this family was cursed and it's manifested in me? I shouldn't be allowed to get close to anyone." Sam tried to pull away from Dean, but only succeeded in getting himself pulled closer.

"We'll figure it out as it comes, Sam. You can't beat yourself up over this. It's not going to come after me, I promise you that. It's had twenty-two years to do that. Please…please don't add me to your list of worries. I…"

"What if Dad knew that getting close to me was dangerous? What if that's why he always kept his distance from me?"

"Sam, Dad distanced himself from you because he didn't understand you, that's all. He wanted, still wants, you to be happy. He was so proud of you when you got a full ride to Stanford, but he was afraid too. He was afraid that you wouldn't be safe where he couldn't keep an eye on you, frightened that you would get hurt somehow, terrified that…he was terrified that you wouldn't be okay there. But he was more afraid to tell you that. You and he never saw eye-to-eye, and all he could see was that every time you two disagreed, you felt guilty. You always were quick to assume that you'd let him down somehow. He never backed off because he was afraid to love you, Sam. Hell, some days I was pretty sure he loved you more than me."

Sam just looked up at Dean. "He was always so cold, so…angry."

"I don't know what to tell you, Sammy. But he never, ever, blamed you for Mom. And until you said something tonight, the thought had never even crossed my mind. Mom was murdered by something evil, something…Hellish. Whatever it was…is…it's not you, and it is solely to blame for her and Jessica dying."

"You…you don't think it's my fault?" The shiver that ran through Sam's body quivered his words, and betrayed the true fear that had plagued him since he had been old enough to understand his father's story, his brother's memories retold as bedtime stories on the nights their father was out too late to put Sam to bed.

"Oh Sam, of course not. In all of Dad's research, I'm sure if any of this was your fault, there would have been some precedent." He knew that above all, Mr. College boy would deal best in facts; he had always been first to fall back on research when the hunts had gotten tough. "Dad found nothing in our family history that even suggested a link to us. We were, for all it seemed, destined to be like this. But you aren't cursed; you aren't some magnet for the paranormal. I swear to you, if there was something that Dad and I knew about Mom's death, we…at the very least, I…would be sure to let you know. You know just as much as I do about this thing. As little as that is."

"I just…we don't know how to protect anyone against it. We don't know how to keep it from coming back. We don't know anything about it…if it's a curse, or a spirit, or a poltergeist, or…who knows, maybe even the Devil himself. I feel like I owe it to everybody to get as far away from them as humanly possible. No matter what it is, it's attached to me somehow, and I feel like maybe if I hole myself away somewhere where no one can find me, then everyone will be safe."

"You don't really mean that do you, Sammy?"

"Of course I do, we have no way of knowing who's next. I don't think I could deal with it if I let someone else get close to me and they were ripped away again. What if it's you, or Dad, or some other innocent bystander?"

"Well, first of all, Dad and I are far from innocent. And second of all…damn it, Sam, is this why you went off to college? To protect me and Dad?"

Sam stalled, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt. "That was part of it…a big part of it. I convinced myself that if I could have a 'normal' life, then it wouldn't happen again. No one I knew that wasn't out fighting the beasts of the night had lost their mother to some dark force. The rest of it _was_ wanting to play soccer and have my biggest worry at thirteen years old be if I was going to be the last one to get kissed or not. It was easier to explain that to you and Dad, though."

Dean sighed. He was the bigger brother. It unsettled him to think that Sam had put himself in danger to protect him; it was supposed to be the other way around.

The two brothers sat in strained silence for a few minutes, neither one sure what to say next. Dean caved first.

"You know, we're going to find this thing one day, Sammy. And I swear by all things holy, you get to have first crack at it. But until then, you can't let all of this eat away at you. I've said before that it could take awhile to find, and we have to be patient. I don't know when or how we're going to find it, but…you've got to let it happen the way it's going to. It's…"

"But what if it isn't a thing? What if it's a curse?"

"Why are you so fixated on it being a curse? There's no precedent for it, Sam."

"Because if it is a curse, then you should get as far away from me as possible."

"Even if it is a curse, Sam, we'll beat it."

"You said it yourself, though. You don't break a curse; you get the Hell out of its way. But you insist on staying by my side. I just don't want…"

"Sam. Just listen to me. I'm your older brother. No matter what you do, who you are, how dumb you act sometimes, you're my kid brother and I'm staying by your side, watching your back, standing in front of whatever the Hell might want to kick your ass. It's the only…normal…thing I can do, and no matter what you say, you can't take that away from me."

Sam smiled, and it gave Dean the smallest glimmer of hope. "You mean there actually is something normal about you? It's not just some foreign word that you got wrong on a vocabulary test when we were actually in school?"

"Oh shut up, Sammy. Do you feel any better?"

"I don't know. I feel kind of like a…"

"Baby? Girl? We've been in the middle of the biggest chick flick moment in Winchester history."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Feel better now?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do, Sammy. Just…promise me one thing?" Dean's voice had turned serious once more.

"Anything…well, almost anything." Sam reached for his face and scrubbed at the dried tear tracks there.

"Don't ever do that again…leave I mean. Especially if you don't tell me why…no, scratch that…just don't go running off again. Can you do that?"

Sam didn't have to think about it. "I'm not going anywhere again anytime soon, Dean. This is where I belong now. I think I'm starting to see that it's where I always belonged. Although college definitely had some perks to it."

"Sam…"

"I promise, Dean."

"Good. Can we go back to bed now? It's getting light outside, and, unlike you, I don't like to see the sun rise."

Sam nodded, but he didn't rise right away when Dean did.

"Sam?" Dean turned around to help Sam up, and looked confused when his brother didn't take his hand.

"Dean? I think…I think you said you loved me somewhere in there."

"Sam, shut up."

"No, no I think you did."

Dean sighed; he was never going to get to bed if he didn't just agree with Sam. "Fine, I did, can we go to bed now?"

"You had emotion…are you sure you aren't a shapeshifter? What did you do with my brother?" He laughed; a real, genuine laugh. It was something Dean hadn't heard in far too long.

Dean reached down and dragged his brother up, smacked him upside the head and shoved him back onto his own bed. "Go to sleep, asshole."

The End.

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